


Does It Bother You That I'm Not Wearing Pants?

by thestandoff



Category: Covert Affairs
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen, featuring bffs annie and auggie, set in season one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-03
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-21 00:17:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3670374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thestandoff/pseuds/thestandoff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Annie has a rough day at the office. Auggie understands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Does It Bother You That I'm Not Wearing Pants?

Auggie was the first to find Annie, although technically he wasn’t supposed to be looking. Nothing remotely relating to fieldwork was in his job description anymore.

To be precise, the night wasn’t supposed to end in bloodshed, either, but you never quite know which way a mission would fall.

Had anyone predicted the outcome of tonight, than Annie would most definitely not have gone in alone. It is most likely that she wouldn’t have gone in at all, as the corrupt Prime Minister would have been dealt with by a team of trained, guarded and heavily armed specialists.

Of course, the CIA didn’t know that the Prime Minister was actively funding the drug cartel that he had openly sworn to stop. Or that the drug cartel had progressed to terrorist-threat-level due to a shipment of arms for China. Or that the incredibly corrupt Prime Minister had gotten his hands on some of both the weapons and the harder hallucinogenic drugs. Or that he most definitely did not know how to handle them. (Although that last one could have been assumed).

Needless to say, instead of Annie simply posing as her call-girl alter-image and strutting into his office long enough to plant a bug that would allow Auggie to monitor his conversations, she was forced to improvise.

And when there is a crazed man with an impossibly sharp ten-inch knife demanding to know why you have three heads and one of them is yellow in a mix of English, Yiddish and possibly meowing, improvisation essentially means surviving without losing your head.

.

Annie was, for the most part, unharmed. The Prime Minister was, for the most part…probably going to make it through the night in the intensive care unit.

Annie wasn’t in trouble per se; the main blame went to the research team for that mission, for failing in their job to gather the correct information before the field agents were dispatched. Her skill had gotten her out of their alive, but understandably shaken up. Flesh wounds, as it turns out, can result in a hell of a lot of blood, and although it wasn’t her own, being covered in blood upset Annie.

But it’s not like she would admit it to anyone.

.

She didn’t have to admit it to Auggie. Everything from her confident walk to her playful tone of voice was off when she entered the DPD to be debriefed. She had been given fresh clothes at the scene once backup of arrived, but he could still smell the blood on her and he was sure she could, too. Joan sent her home, giving her the rest of the day off (but still expecting her to show up tomorrow, of course). He knew that she wasn’t going to be able to go home and just sleep this one off.

It was because of this knowledge that he called in a favor from one of the tech interns on a lower floor.

Follow her home, Auggie had said. Make sure she gets there safe after what’s she’s been through today.

He hadn’t been surprised when he had received a call back from the kid, informing him that Annie hadn’t gone straight home. What had surprised him was that her car was still in the parking lot by the time he got out of work that night.

.

“I hope you’re not attempting to drown yourself in a public place,” Auggie’s voice called out over the sand.

The beach was dark and long empty of people, save one distressed agent who was apparently channeling her inner mermaid. Auggie walked out onto the sand and towards the sound of splashing in the waves. Annie hadn’t responded to his comment.

“Please tell me you didn’t get the kitten heels wet!”

Annie rolled her eyes at that one. “They’re four feet to your left,” she called back.

Auggie found them with his cane and sat down next to them. The cane wasn’t really great at the beach, and his laser pointer had problems with the many little hills of sand made by the wind and children with buckets. They stayed like that for a while; Annie drifting on her back a few feet from the shore and Auggie sitting next to her clothes pile, legs stretched out in front him and torso reclined back onto his elbows.

She finally stood up and walked back towards Auggie, stopping a few inches in front of him. He tilted his head up towards her general direction.

“Hanging in there, sweetheart?”

He heard rather than saw her shrug at the question.

“If it is any consolation, the odds of that kind of situation happening to you again are very slim. Definitely not with this guy, anyways. And absolutely not with his right hand, since…you know. You kinda cut it off.”

There was a slight smile in her response.

“It was either his arm or my head. Turns out I’m actually quite fond of my head staying right where it is.”

His smile mirrored hers.

 “Well then, Agent Walker. I see you are handling everything just fine. Too bad the bars are all closed by now. Looks like we’ll have to make meaningless and slightly awkward conversation without the social aid of alcohol tonight.”

Annie snorted at that. “I guess we will.”

Auggie sat up straight and mimed taking an exaggerated swig of a drink, complete with swaying back and forth.

“So Annieeeeee,” He playfully slurred. “Does it bother you that you partially severed the arm of the Prime Minister?”

“That depends,” she responded, tapping her barefoot against his shoe.

“On what, my deaaaaaaar?”

“Does it bother you that I’m not wearing pants?”

Auggie stopped mid-slur. Blinking slowly, he waited for her playful laugh.

It never came.

He reached out with his left hand and found the heels she had left in the sand upon arriving at the beach. Then, he leaned over, stretching out farther than comfortable. His hands found a belt; a pile of soft material; a zipper. A pair of pants which were in his hands and, therefore, not on the woman standing in front of him.

He leaned back over to a sitting position; a decidedly more serious expression on his face this time. He reached his arm forward towards her, and she reached out to meet him and take his hand.

Then he pulled her down onto him, soaking wet and smelling like salt, and proceeded to help her forget about her hard day at the office.


End file.
